Greetings From ZombieLand!
by 4everYoung93
Summary: Greetings from ZombieLand, everybody! You all already know about the four-person dream team, –Columbus, Tallahassee, Wichita, and Little Rock –right? Well guess what? They're not the only survivors! Rated T for language and zombie-hackin'.
1. Greetings from ZombieLand!

Greetings from ZombieLand, everybody! You all already know about the four-person dream team, –Columbus, Tallahassee, Wichita, and Little Rock –right? Well guess what? They're not the only survivors! Meet the Powells:

* * *

><p><strong>Diana<strong>

Nickname: "Pockets"

Age: 19

Hometown: Dearborn, Michigan

Appearance: 5'4", 150 lbs. Brown hair, green eyes. Pale skinned. Black bandanna; tie-dye peace-sign tee; grey long-sleeved hoodie with pockets; black cargo pants; and hiking boots. Always carries a backpack.

Strengths: Practical thinker; Melee weapons and small firearms; Able to last long stretches on little/no sleep; Street-smart; Zombie-smart.

Weaknesses: Raspberry Zingers and Venom

Weapons of choice: The Deuce (2 ft long, 2 handed machete, back-sheathed) and 2 S&W 9mms (handguns, 15 round mags, thigh-holstered).

Relations: Spencer Powell, A.K.A "Phelps" (Brother)

Basic info: Diana has prepared for Z-Day since day one. She's completely obsessed with horror movies, so she knows just about everything there is to know in order to survive ZombieLand. She and her brother, Spencer, were living with their mother (their parents divorced when they were 6 and 4, respectively) when the virus broke out. Since mom worked for the local hospital, she had the misfortune of getting infected, and consequently, almost killed her kids upon coming back from work that day. Diana was the one to put her down –the siblings never talk about it.

She, like Tallahassee, has a weakness for snack foods; the Raspberry Zinger is her Twinkie. And like Columbus, Venom energy drinks are her Mountain Dew. She's an insomniac by nature, having doubled up on coffee and Venom since the age of 14, so her eyes have adapted to working well in low light and even pitch darkness; meaning she travels just as well by night as by day. It also means she can go for up to a full 24 hours without sleep and still function normally, albeit occasionally getting the shakes.

Diana is not only obsessed with horror films (and films in general), but with music as well. She carries her iPod with her at all times, and charges it whenever and wherever possible –she even has a special "Zombie Slayer" playlist programmed in specifically for times when she has to bash-and-slash some meat-munchers. It's her ass-kicking soundtrack.

She wasn't always a badass, though; Diana was the weird kid in high-school who always had her nose in a book, and only had a few close friends. But having to kill her own mother and knowing her friends were all psychotic cannibals turned her into a different person –tough, practical, and fearless. She can now decapitate a zombie without batting an eyelash, and her humor –sarcastic and witty to begin with –has taken on a darker tone to suit her new environment. She hasn't wholly lost herself to ZombieLand, but bits and pieces of her have disappeared along the way. But, being aware of this, she tries to hold on to some of her old habits –like reading and music –to keep what's left of her soul and mind, or else she knows she'll go completely insane.

* * *

><p><strong>Spencer<strong>

Nickname: "Phelps"

Age: 17

Hometown: Dearborn, Michigan

Appearance: 6'1", 165 lbs. Brown hair, green eyes. Pale skinned. Red Wings cap; Poison tee; red long-sleeved pull-over; khaki cargo pants; running shoes. Wears a 10-pocket tactical vest.

Strengths: Boy Scout survival skills; long range firearms and blunt weapons; Athlete; Good wheel-man; Book-smart.

Weaknesses: Short temper

Weapons of choice: Shotgun (12 gauge, handheld at all times) and "Opportunity Weapons" (ordinary objects he finds that can be used for defense/offense).

Relations: Diana Powell, A.K.A "Pockets" (Sister)

Basic info: Spencer used to be as different from his sister, Diana, as day is from night. She was always quiet and thoughtful; he was loud and proud. She was used to taking the back seat; he always took charge. She never liked conflict; he never backed down from a fight. Even though he was two years her junior, he always seemed to act more like her older brother than her younger.

That is, until ZombieLand.

You see, Spencer was the kind of guy who, like his sister, enjoyed a good zombie flick –unlike his big sis, however, he never considered the possibility that something like that could _actually_ happen. So you could imagine his surprise when he found out that the walking dead had stopped existing only in the movies, and had started to pop up in real life.

What sucks about that is; the first zombie he ever saw? It was his mom. Needless to say, that didn't end very well for either him or Di –or their mother, come to that. They lost their only (active) parent, and Mom? She lost her head –literally.

Talk about scarred for life.

Since that day, neither of them have mentioned their mother if they can help it –sometimes they forget, or they just can't take her not being there, and they recall happier memories of a time before they became the co-mayors of Fuck Ville. But for the most part, they just try to focus on living one day at a time, and staying mobile, never staying in one place too long. They usually drive, taking it in shifts, and bedding down on the seats of whatever car or truck they're using at the moment. Spencer is the better driver of the two, even though neither of them ever went to Driver's Ed; they could never afford the classes. Not that those little things –like traffic laws –really matter now, anyway. There's nobody around to care in ZombieLand.

When they have to, though, they're both good for hoofing it. Before Z-Day, Diana had always made a habit of walking everywhere, and Spencer had been a triple-threat sports star for their local high school. He was a defensive lineman for the JV football team, ran track and field, and was one of the fastest butterflyers on the swim team –hence the name, "Phelps". Because of this, he's in top physical condition, and so fits rather well into his new (albeit forced) lifestyle.

As far as killing zombies goes, Spencer takes to it like a redneck to Deer Season. He started out in the Boy Scouts as a Cub, and over the years, as he made his way through the ranks, they taught him how to handle everything from bows and arrows to rifles. Camping, hunting, fishing, extreme-condition survival skills; you name it, he knows it. And it's this knowledge in particular that comes in rather handy when you have nobody to depend on but yourself and whoever you see fit to lay your trust with –which, you'll find in Z-land, is a very short list of people. So far, the only one on his list is Diana, and only because (a. they're family, and (b. he has no one else.

As far as the two of them know, they're the only right-minded people left on the planet…

…Or are they?


	2. Good Morning, ZombieLand! NOT!

**(Author's Note)**

**For those who reviewed, thanks. Hope you like this. I own nothing.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>September 15<strong>**th****, 2009 –Approx. 2 Months Post-ZD **_(1)_

**Dearborn, Michigan**

**7:35 AM**

The first thing that registers with me is the sun burning my eyelids. Have you ever had that? Ya know, the sensation that the sun is up, so by default you have to be up, too? Yeah, I know; I hate it, too.

Ya see, I'm not exactly what you'd call a "morning person". No, I'm more like a "set-the-coffee-down-and-back-away-slowly" kind of girl. Meaning, if you even so much as _attempt_ a conversation with me before nine in the AM, you had better have either caffeine, or a life-or-death situation for me to deal with. Because, if not, I will slice off your leg (just the one) and leave you on the side of the road. Don't think I'm serious?

Try me. I triple-dog dare ya…

And yes, I totally just stole that from _A Christmas Story_. Like you've never done it.

Anyway, we're getting off the subject; where was I? Oh yeah, the sun. It's shining through the windshield of this really rusted-out old Bronco that me and Spencer –that's my brother, by the way –found the other day. It feels like I only just fell asleep, even though according to the dash clock, I managed to get a good five hours in last night…or rather, this morning, I guess. Yeah, another thing you ought to know about me: I'm a totally insomniac; hell, I'm practically nocturnal! Which, now that I think about it, _might_ have something to do with my not being a morning person.

Note the sarcasm here, ladies and gents, note the sarcasm…

So yeah, I was up till around two last night, reading, as per usual. Now, I know what you're thinking: Seriously? The whole world's going completely to pot and you're sitting up READING?

Well, yeah, and I'll tell you why: (1. I couldn't sleep, and figured I might as well do something productive and (2. It was a pretty good book. Very informative, in fact. What was it called, you may wonder?

Max Brooks' The Zombie Survival Guide.

You may want to stop and think over everything I've told you so far, because if you do, then you'll probably have a few questions. If they are the following questions, then pay attention to my answers very carefully, because I'm only going over this with you once.

Question One: Why were you sleeping in a Bronco?

Good question. The reason for that is that at the moment, Spencer and I are homeless, and are what you would call nomads; we constantly move from place to place, gathering food and supplies whenever, wherever, and however possible. Methods include: Raiding, robbery, breaking-and-entering, and grand theft auto; hence, the car. But don't worry, the owner was dead –at least, I think he was dead… He might've been… Probably.

Moving on…

Question Two: Is it just you and your brother?

Yep, it's just us. Not that we're always happy about it; we bicker a lot. And over the stupidest shit sometimes, too. But for the most part, it's cool. Spence is old enough now to where he can take care of himself, and we've both always been pretty mature for our age –most of the time, anyway.

Question Three: How do you get away with breaking the law all the time?

Simple –there are no laws anymore. Which brings us to question four…

How is the world going completely to pot?

Again, the answer is simple.

Zombies.

Yes, my friends, you heard right. You're not crazy, and neither am I –at least, no more than anyone else. This isn't just some sick, twisted nightmare, because trust me on this, if it were, I would have woken up by now. Plus, I never could remember my dreams.

That's how I know that this is really happening.

That's why I'm homeless, living in someone else's beat-up truck with my 17 year-old brother, eating someone else's food, and wearing clothes with pockets deep enough to hide a puppy.

Because you need deep pockets to carry the essentials –food, water, and ammo –with you at all times. You need to take advantage of the things people leave lying around, like food, and cars with half-full tanks. You need to keep whatever family you have left close with you, for as long as you can. And when zombies take over your home from the inside?

You need to haul ass.

So that's what we do. We carry on our person what we know can't be replaced. We drive when we can, and walk (and run) when we can't. We always sleep close together, though usually, I don't sleep. That way they can't sneak up on us. Whenever we find a grocery store or a gas station that hasn't been overrun or totally cleaned out, we restock on whatever's there that we need, and anything else we might want. We try to only go for necessaries, but now and again we indulge our fancies, within reason. And we keep our weapons with us at all times –because, seriously, have you noticed that in the movies? People always kill zombies in, like, this really badass slow-mo shot, and then they just ditch the gun or bat or crossbow or what-have-you, and walk away unarmed! Stupid! You don't just throw your fucking weapon away! Keep that shit, man!

Sorry, I'm rambling again –I have A.D.D., what can I say? I kinda had to go off my meds for like, ya know, ever. My attention span is pretty much shot at this point.

_Any_way…

So like I was saying, that's how we roll here, now that we're sorta living in a George A. Romero flick for realsies.

No guilt.

No law.

No code of conduct.

No profanity filter.

Just a lot of fucking zombies.

My name is Diana Powell. You can call me Pockets.

And this is my story.

* * *

><p><strong>(1) ZD= Z-Day, or Zombie Day; the day the virus struck. Since, in the beginning of the film, Colombus had said it was two months after the outbreak, this would be around the same time that he was getting chased through a gas-station parking lot by dead-heads in Garland, Texas. <strong>

**Just so you know.**

**Reviews=Love.**


End file.
